


Miel d'Améthyste sur Crème de Mandalorian

by KillerBananas



Series: Crème de la Crème [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, BDSM, Blasphemous, Breeding, Breeding Kink, Creampie, Cum Play, Deep Throating, Dirty Talk, Dom!Din, Dom!Mando, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, Edging, Excessive use of pet names, F/M, Flowery Speech, Frottage, HEED TAGS, Hickeys, Mating Press, Mechanic!Reader, No Beta We Die Like Mandalorians, Nonpenetrative Sex, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Outercourse, PWP, Pain Kink, Pearl Necklace, Penis In Vagina Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Raw Smut, Reader Gets Railed, Reader-Insert, Rimming, Rough Sex, SUFFER WITH ME, Smut, Spanking, That escalated quickly meme applicability, Throat Fucking, all marauding notions of plot are just pitiful vehicles for smut, beep beep motherfucker, breath play, but good warnings if thats your thing, but this doesnt perfectly exemplify proper or best practices dom/sub relationships, butt stuff, cockdumb!reader, congratulations were all uncomfortably wet now, deep in some fucking feels, din basically has the sexual personality of a sour patch kid, enjoy the pure hedonism, excessive use of the word cunt, first hes sour, gloves go missing probably, hair play, im bad at remembering geographical and temporal locations of clothing and body parts, in this house we value communication, its art so theres nothing to prove, kinky stuff im probably forgetting, let mando navigate your subspace with care, mando simp hours are 24/7, master found its way in there too somehow, maybe slight OOC mando, ok idk it could be a lot of OOC mando if you arent about this stuff, porn in a perfect world if you will, pussy slapping, size kink probably, slight degradation/humiliation, so much lewd dialogue because no one should keep their mouth shut in this scenario, so much more cum play than I expected also, sub!Reader, subspace ahoy mateys, tags going forward here are sexy time spoilers, the longest smut i ever wrote, then hes sweet, there is no glove here iyfm, theres a safeword i promise, we all simp for mando here, wrote the majority of this stoned as a biscuit left in the oven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:48:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29277975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillerBananas/pseuds/KillerBananas
Summary: Your mind languished in the overwhelming urge to please Mando enough to leave him breathless and craving more, find nourishment in the cathartic need to give this man freedom to take what he wants for a moment in life, find a new level of connectedness with another being. It was embarrassing how wet you were between your legs over the sensitive nature of trusting someone with your consciousness, but oh how to touch the fucking sun. His words were both a plea and a command that panged in your chest with pure want.You would let this man destroy you.-It's just pure smut, y'all. Heed the tags.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader
Series: Crème de la Crème [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2155629
Comments: 32
Kudos: 159





	Miel d'Améthyste sur Crème de Mandalorian

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, the title is just a cum metaphor in poor French (meant to approximate “Amethyst Honey on Mandalorian Cream” which is just a funky pain kink metaphor you’ll figure out if you continue). My depravity felt musedly unbound for you all. This is probably prettier if you’re inebriated, but just give it a nibble. Snacks up, you kindred spirits of debauchery.
> 
> This is my first writing in a hot minute (read: years) and I know I goofed with tenses throughout. There’s also some run-on sentences and flowery hoopla that may not be everyone’s favorite nonsense, but I wanted to post this in some wild attempt to give back to the fandom for giving us all some great stories to read. Constructive criticism is appreciated, random comments of elation or emojis to capture your feelings are also. Enjoy the filth, ya dirty animals, and please keep up the fabulous smut that permeates this fandom.
> 
> Final reminder: please heed the tags in case this is not your cup of tea.
> 
> Disclaimer: I made no money from this filth and do not own the characters.

He’s all hard edges and perhaps that’s what drew you both together so well in the first place. Everything from his intimidating quietude to the musculature encased in his impressively crafted armor. He was sharp-witted, quick, and the best shot you had ever seen. And somewhere down the line of having been around each other long enough, you realized these qualities, and a multitude of others, started to wear through your own metaphorical guards. It was only so much a Mortal like yourself could take seeing a Master perform in his element and not have it chip away at your heart in the most sinfully vulnerable way possible. The admiration had developed into a heat like a molten, awestricken honey scouring through your veins, too impossibly addicting to ignore.

It’d become a hindrance at times, like when you had to have the Mandalorian repeat himself after you missed one of his few utterances. If an outsider was to interpret the reaction of the Mandalorian, to the heat rushing to your face when these incidences happened, it would be as slightly jarring to the hunter. It was hard to tell though as you were sending a prayer to the void that your heat-clouded brain wouldn’t be given away to his searing gaze, as if he could see the image you found branding itself into your mind of the way the musculature down his back would ripple with his mouth at the apex of your thighs as he worked you through a blinding orgasm. Maker, you were definitely never going to even touch heaven when you bit the bucket with the weight of the sensual thoughts that bled through your mind at the most _inopportune_ moments.

As a man of so few words and gestures, each one used is considerably more precious and telling, in a way. How he tilts his helm when he means for you to continue your thoughts or when something intrigues him. The way his stance changes from open to closed when he begins to get uncomfortable. The twitch of his fingers when he hears the child cry out for him, just before he rises to sooth him. How those same fingers twitch when he also needs the comfort of the child in his arms to sooth something inside himself. It’s clear the Mandalorian is a loving man. You’d managed to gleam enough interactions between himself and the little one to see he would die for his foundling.

It was an honorable connection that struck chords in you that you thought rusted from disuse. It was the Master in another light that only further built up your mental understanding of the Mandalorian, another surge of molten honey injected right into your nervous system. And something in your body pulled so hard at this thought, of the Mandalorian as familial, nurturing, protective of his child, that you almost groan in response to an aching want it inspires deep in your fucking womb when you bear witness to this tender side that is so gleamingly rare in its rawness. You would usually attempt to avoid looking at the Mandalorian in these moments and toss another prayer into the void about him not picking up your lewd noises on his helmet. There was no way his helmet was that sensitive, right? And he definitely didn’t catch any of the noises when you fucked your fingers into your cunt later to these aching fantasies, _hopefully_.

His quietness was appealing for different reasons when you first became acquainted. He had trusted Cara Dune’s endorsement of your character as “one of the best damn engineers” she had seen and thrown in that you also generally disfavored excessive speaking for extra enticement. As the Crest had started racking up the need for repairs and improvements, but his inability to stay in one place for too long competed, he didn’t need much more convincing. It was a day later that you had packed up your meager possessions and agreed to attach yourself to the Crest for the foreseeable future.

The dynamic between the two of you was slightly jarring at first, lacking the fluidity that time and an innate complementariness had since allowed to blossom. Even if he had agreed to have you there, indeed having had invited you himself, it was still an intrusion on his own space. It wasn’t hard to understand he was a man that was used to being alone. It was your acknowledgement of this fact, and your own patience, that made finding a routine and norms a little bit easier for the Mandalorian. And as both of you could be called adaptive (finding parts for a ship as old as his was not easy and improvisation was often a must), the routine became comfortable, even predictable, at least until it wasn’t.

It started out with the first time you had to help the Mandalorian deal with a wound from a less-than-agreeable quarry. He had taken some kind of bladed weapon to a vulnerable area near his pauldrons that snuck down his back, slicing the skin open to an expanse he couldn’t reach. The bleeding had stopped more or less once he had reached the ship and shoved the bounty into carbonite, when he had turned to you with that tilt to his helmet and cauterizer in hand. It was easy to smell the blood from the few feet you stood from him and it seemed that it was only seconds after you had taken the tool from his hand that you were looking at the exposed skin of his back. Attempting to avoid the awkwardness and pain of the pause your mind stalled into, you willed yourself forward, nudging the tall man to sit on a crate so you could better reach his wound.

As he sat, you also grabbed some disinfectant from the small first-aid kit that laid out beside you both. Thankful that the child wasn’t still up so late in the cycle, you apologized to the Mandalorian as the next part was sure to smart. You carefully, slowly poured the liquid over the gash. As the Mandalorian tried to ignore his body’s urge to press forward and away from the pain, your free hand absentmindedly reached out for his shoulder, thumb rubbing calming motions into his warm skin. So done without thought was the action, that you barely registered the additional rigidity of his body beyond the pain of the disinfectant, nor the lessening of it even before you removed the appendage. Minding the need to tend to the wound, you used both hands to properly wipe away everything you could before bringing down the cauterizer.

Another warning left your mouth, hand returning again to his shoulder as you did your fastest, but most accurate work you could with the tool. This time his opposite hand met yours with a reassuring squeeze. That’s when the blush started to crawl up your chest and to your face as you realized he had removed his gloves and stunningly tanned skin was contrasting with your own in such an aesthetically pleasing way, as if the contact was intimately conveying to you a plethora of warm feelings that transcended the capabilities of speech.

It slowly ramped up after that night. A brush of his knee against yours in the cockpit. Noticing he would start to stick around to help with repairs when hunts were fewer between. Finding a blanket draped over your body after you fell asleep in odd positions around the ship since you tended to work hard until the job was done, and having a long list for the Crest meant that the boundary of completion would blur more often than not. You’d noticed the scent on the blanket was inherently masculine and you couldn’t stop the guilty indulgence of a long inhale of the fabric. You would always leave it back on his cot, folded, attempting to be respectful of his kindnesses, as each gesture was something inherently priceless to treasure, being noticed by such a stunning being’s carefully tended considerations, like being touched by a sun god’s blinding light. You had to be mindful not to let yourself burn as hot as the light, but sweet stars abound, it was just as addicting as that sweet nectar circulating through every sense in your body, but just as tumultuously likely that you would ignite like a nuclear reactor if you overindulged.

While the touches were not undesirable on your side, and you were just as guilty in partaking, it did constitute another adjustment to your daily interactions. And as with any new changes that happen, sometimes unintentional situations could arise. Like now, as you were trying to reach an incredibly small area in the Crest to connect a couple of wires. Sure, your leaner frame was usually pretty sufficient in getting into these kinds of places, but it wasn’t always the case. You let out a grunt as your shoulder twinged with an ache that promised more pain if you kept the motion up. As you pulled your head away from the cramped space, you almost jumped out of your skin when the shiny Beskar came into your field of vision.

“Damn, Mando, a little warning.”

Your voice was a little tight from the surprise and you thought about putting a bell on the bounty hunter, not that he’d let you. It was a testament to his skill, his control, that he could be so quiet in such heavy armor. You wondered how this clear showing of muscular control translated to the man underneath, as if you could see such a masterpiece under such holy coverings. A crackle through his helmet gave indication to a poorly suppressed chuckle as he got a better look at what you were trying to do. An idea came to you as you realized you now had another set of hands to put to the equation. He tilted his head as he read the change in your face, smile dimpling your cheek asymmetrically.

“Could you actually hold this part here up while I try to get to that section in the back? I think it would help me get that cord plugged into that receptor.”

He moved his gloved hand to the portion you indicated and held it as far out of your way as he could. You resumed your previous position and could almost make the connections work. A little bit more stretching pressed your neck against the Mandalorian’s arm, but you figured it was worth the trouble if you could just get those damn pieces together, orbiting that burning heavenly body just close enough to smolder. A click resounded in the cramped space as you succeeded. You tried to pull your head back out of the area quickly to celebrate the success, but were met with unexpected resistance in your hair. As close as you had gotten to the Mandalorian, you failed to realize that your hair had managed to get caught in his vambrace.

A slight anxiousness invaded your system as a second pull did not do any better to disentangle the strands. His other hand grabbed your shoulder as he told you to stay still, not unkindly. Heeding the command, you stayed stock still while he evaluated the mess you had made. A heat rose to your cheeks as you felt him remove the tie at the end of your braid to help him in the endeavor. As the two of you hadn’t talked extensively about each other, the topic of certain cultural practices hadn’t come up too often. You knew Mandalorians had a big no-no for removing their helmet, but it was also clear that having met more than one, not all of them followed this as religiously as the next. Because of that, you tended to give Mando a wide berth with anything to do above the shoulders and never really questioned it. In return, he didn’t know too much about your own people’s practices. And at this moment, it was particularly salient that he had no idea how much your hair meant to you.

Not to mention just how sensitive your scalp happened to be either, but he was about to find out. It really was a testament to how long you had been around each other that you could tell the moment he realized how you felt. It was as he had nearly fully unfurled your strands that he paused. His helmet turned minutely towards your legs that were pressing together and his biometric scans noted a rise in your body temperature, pulse, and breathing on his visor. He gave a slight tug to the base of your braid that was barely intact and watched you squirm in response, stats responding in kind, possibly to tease or reconfirm his evaluation. A low sound registered from his modulator as he took in the information and gave quick thought to the situation.

The sight of your lips partially parted and eyes lust-blown as you adjusted your position when his hand didn’t leave your hair, but actually buried in, registered to him clearly and gave his confidence what it needed to go forward.

“I didn’t say to move yet, did I?”

It took a moment for the question to register in your brain and it seemed to go right back to your pressed lower limbs. Well, if he wanted to play like that, then it was a good thing you were a quick learner yourself, and also painfully subordinate to the ache in your pelvis. It took you all of half a second to decide exactly how you wanted to play this, as if given the chance to actually drink the humming nectar of gods was an opportunity that your subconscious just could not pass up; pushing just the right buttons to pay the worship you felt calling in your bones to the Master that constantly exuded such a gravitating presence before you.

_To touch the sun._

“No. Sorry, Sir. I can listen better next time.”

His grip in your hair tightened along with the goosebumps rippling down your skin and budding your nipples into the thin material of your shirt on display like a beacon of reception to his advances. The Mandalorian missed exactly nothing, noting the respectful title and brazen acknowledgement (or, perhaps, _brattish demand_ ) of a next command, but neither did you as you saw the barest twitch of his legs flexing with the change in blood flow in his body.

“Do you have an answer for every question?”

“I do when I know what I want.”

The reassurance of the brief conversation sent another pulse between his own legs as the possibilities took hold in his mind, gaze calculating behind the mask to make the next move, hunter evaluating his prey.

“And what exactly is it that you want?”

A gulp betrayed your genuine fear of putting all of yourself forward in such a vulnerable manner, but your mind was so overheated by the same stunning rays that scorched your soul that you could not miss your chance at this glory.

“Everything you’re prepared to give me, but especially what pleases you the most. I want to whisper prayers between your legs with how debauched you make me feel while worshiping that powerful fucking cock that’s waiting between those strong thighs you’ve managed to hide from my sight. I want to use my tongue to swirl artwork onto your body that pays homage to the fucking fire that is running through my very being every time I gleam your beautiful soul in domestic fits of protectiveness. I want to give you my body to use as the balm on your desires, help soothe whatever ache you need,” you licked your lips in slight hesitation, swallowing audibly, “if you’ll have me.”

Another pause on his end, inhale of breath barely perceptible and only just noticeable with the expansion of his chest, moved from the spark such a deeply intimate confession that had temporarily short-circuited his brain.

“Are you sure you can handle that, even if it’s not gentle?”

“You underestimate my durability _and_ dedication, Mandalorian.”

“Do you trust me?”

Though a jarring turn of conversation, it didn’t even require conscious thought with the number of times he had saved your skin. Your eyes focused where you believed would be his line of sight in the visor and the words left your lips easily.

“With my life.”

His free hand came up to slowly caress your face, in awe at the control you would give him, other hand still tangled in your hair, unmoving and not allowing you any mobility of your neck in return. His glove rasped against the sensitive skin of your face and slowly neared your lips. The Mandalorian used mild pressure to coax your mouth open further and slipped his index and middle fingers in. He could feel the warmth surrounding his digits and still invaded deeper, just shy of triggering your gag reflex.

“Suck.”

Needing no other instructions, you worked his fingers the best your crowded mouth would allow, tongue swirling around each one, saliva spreading easily and beginning to drip from the corner of your mouth, mind falling away from yourself in a state of both connection and submission that bloomed more painful arousal than your mind could handle. Small whimpers sang sonnets of your passion as they escaped around the invading digits, dripping from your lips as the molten honey gushed luxuriously from your soul.

“This mouth looks so good with me in it. Did you mean it when you said you want to worship my cock?”

You do your best to make eye contact where you think his gaze is and nod longingly up at the figure that looms in your space so closely. Your mouth keeps pace with lavishing his fingers until you are given a new instruction from the Mandalorian, attentive of not being told to stop.

“Bite.”

He had pulled back his fingers so that just the edge of his glove was between your teeth. _Oh._

You reveled in the exposure of such a contrastingly large hand compared to your own, soaking up what you hadn’t in the other times you’d seen the appendage. He returned the hand to its previous position and pushed far enough into your throat that it made your muscles tighten reflexively.

“Will you take it this deeply? Will you let me use your throat to rut into until I can see the outline of myself? See how snugly I fit inside you.”

_Fuck, was he asking? Demanding? Had the line between the two ever been so thin?_

You repeated your previously eager behavior of nodding your sex-addled brain around in your head as the idea of being treated so intensely sent lightning bolts to your center. Your back arched as his wet hand left your mouth to pull your shirt up your torso and spread the saliva onto your nipples. The suddenness of the action catalyzed a murderously intense parade of feelings. Initially, it was the coldness of the small step your now bare back collided with, almost stinging your warm body and making you arch into the overwhelming coldness of the liquid on your breasts. The stretch of the arch pulled at the hair the Mandalorian’s hand was still entangled in, your silken threads taught from the touch of a man so dominant that this Master commanded your attention resolutely.

A harsh pull downward brought you perfect eyelevel with the Mandalorian’s thighs. The motion of your eyes looking up questioningly to ask permission as your hands reached for him, had him tugging your hair again to stop your forward movement. The initial denial stung until a new command came from the Mandalorian.

“Beg for it. Tell me more of those pretty words you said you’d turn into prayers if you got to taste me. Tell me more about these wicked feelings you get.”

The request took some of the moisture from your throat at being given another chance to express yourself so blatantly. His free hand paused at his complex adornments around his hips, waiting for you to begin. The words poured from your mouth in a chance to get him to undress faster, raw desire translating to filthier speech until you could get what you so badly needed, feeling drunk on his closeness, teased by the proximity of such pure sexual energy radiating off this man, your filter flew right out your cockdumb mind.

“Please, let me take your cock down my throat, Sir. I need you to fuck that entire length down as far as you can cram it until my eyes tear with how overwhelming it is, throbbing so hard you think we both might burst from the pressure. Want you to use every pull and slam of your hips to bring sparks of goddamn pure pleasure with how much you enjoy hearing me gag on it, making it almost impossible to breathe. Have you hold it down until I’m lightheaded with your fucking pleasure. I want to drive you mad with how hard it will be not to come down my throat because you need to paint my face with every drop you can spare, so I can feel like a pretty fucking goddess who earned a goddamn pearl necklace crafted from the fucking jewels between your thighs. I want you to lick it off me and feed me your sweet nectar with your mouth. I crave every drop of your cream, Mandalorian. Please. Won’t you use me?”

Your eyes were so alluring as he stared you down, forcing himself to exercise measured care to removing his outwear at the hips down in steady, slow motions, just to revel in more filthy words drawn out from your fucking submissive psyche. The hardened, hot length of him stood proudly in front of your mouth, swollen and throbbing from each syllable he’d expertly strung out with his patience, another example of a Master at work. A drop of the very liquid you begged for fell smoothly from his tip. It was a thrill that ran through his body when he was able to press your open mouth over his tool until the breath was stolen from you. His hand moved over your throat as he began a smooth, but deep motion of plowing into you, giving you a chance to find a breathing pattern to keep up with him.

“Look at how well you take me, _mesh’la_. Do you know how easy it would be to let you just pass out on my cock if I stay there just long enough? Are you desperate enough to let me use you as you come back from that place that your head goes when you almost run out of breath? Give me control to wreck you as I see fit.”

Your mind languished in the overwhelming need to please Mando enough to leave him breathless and craving more, find nourishment in the cathartic need to give this man freedom to take what he needs for a moment in life, find a new level of connectedness with another being. It was embarrassing how wet you were between your legs over the sensitive nature of trusting someone with your consciousness, but _oh how to touch the fucking sun_. His words were both a plea and a command that panged in your chest with pure want. It almost hurt to take your mouth off him momentarily to verbalize your acquiescence.

“Please, use me. Take your fucking pleasure that’s owed to you however you need.”

His hips began a rhythm in earnest, plucking each gagging moan from your throat like a hungry beast empowered. He used his hand to keep you full of his length and let that addicting darkness curl around your vision just before letting up again. The pattern kept escalating in how far the edges would creep in. It was barely into the fifth stroke that your vision blacked fully as you saw white hot stars behind your vision. It was a momentarily groggy sensation that your wits returned to you and you heard a distinctly wet noise, realizing blearily quickly how it was the sound of the Mandalorian’s thick rod getting shoved down your throat repeatedly with no gagging hindering his pace.

Unable to tell if the lewdness of the situation was bringing heat to your cheeks or if it was a distinct lack of oxygen returning to your brain from the kiss of darkness that he pulled from you, you tried to inhale greedily to replenish your lungs, but only found the Mandalorian’s cock getting shoved down impossibly further for an almost unbearable split-second that had a rumble resounding in his chest at the way it stimulated him so intensely.

“Do you,” he hesitated as his hips hitched at the pleasant way you sheathed him, “want me to mark you? Are you so,” his pants were audible, “fucking needy that you feel like you have to take my seed all over your face?”

As he pulled himself out slowly from your mouth to let you speak and catch your breath, you worked to get your muscles to cooperate and nudge your mind in to how to push him right over the edge.

“I need you everywhere, Master. Please, I want you to cum all over my body and in every fucking hole, get absolutely destroyed each time you fuck me. I want to feel you tomorrow every time I move and relive this goddamn euphoria until I can’t stop from creaming my panties just thinking about it. You’re like a fine wine that needs to be savored slowly, but I cannot get enough of every intoxicating drop and I-” You were cut off as he pressed the tip of himself to your mouth after using his hand in tandem with your words to get himself closer. Your mouth opened instinctively wide enough that he could watch the drops that landed _partially_ within the confines of your mouth, errant drops splashing across your cheeks and nose. Even as he wrung himself dry from the rough strokes he gave himself, you kept yourself patiently still, waiting for what he wanted you to do next.

As his focus came to fully rest on the stunningly lewd picture you made beneath him, he couldn’t stop the languid strokes he kept up to feel the overstimulating pleasure he could accumulate from burning the image of you into his mind forever, cock smearing his spend further over your face in pearlescent arches of liquid. He gently closed your mouth and indicated you to swallow, essence only stoking the fire inside of you. He used his fingers to pull the rest of the cum down your face and into your mouth, with you cleaning each digit reverently to as devour this shared closeness, fingertips taking their time on the last swipe to savor the intimacy of seeing someone so beautiful get drunk on his own pleasure. His voice was breathily interrupted as he came down from his climax.

“You’re such a good girl for me, so patient. Obedience gets rewarded, you know. I need two things from you though, before we continue. Let me blindfold you.”

It pained you a little to be denied the vision before you. Seeing him cum, watching the tension ripple in his form, staring at his cock, it was hard to give up, but little greatness comes without a trade. Regardless, your mind was made up on the request.

“I told you I trust you. What’s the second one?”

“I need you to repeat this word to me: _ge’tal_.”

You parroted the word back to him in the same tone he used.

“That’s the word you’re going to repeat if you want me to stop what I’m doing. If you don’t, I’m going to do exactly whatever I want to your body until I’ve fucked and filled you so thoroughly that you can feel satiated at what you’ve fucking done to me, how you draw the pleasure right out of my muscles until I rest easy tonight knowing I’ve done my job fucking you witless,” he used his pause to tweak one of your nipples harshly, “finding all the things that make you squirm.”

Your toes curled as your mind kept up to process his words, struck at the depravity of the ultimatum and painful sensation. It was moments later you found yourself stripped bare in his cot and vision dark. Goosebumps erupted down your body as reality sunk in further and your ears attempted to pick up any sounds possible. You could hear the Mandalorian’s movements as he removed his Beskar, having only taken off the bare minimum to fuck your throat previously. He placed each piece reverently onto the shelving near the bed, delicately exercising that precise control, making you wait. The hiss of his helmet being removed made you hold your breath, the trust of the action not lost on you. A drop of wetness trickled from between your legs, about to touch the sheets underneath your body, but a warm finger stopped its descent. The sudden contact brought a touch of lightning to your muscles, making you want to close your legs on instinct. Without any hesitation at all, the Mandalorian’s large hand came down quickly and slapped your cunt harshly, making you yelp in surprise.

“I don’t remember telling you to close these. Do you?”

Hearing the question leave his mouth with no interference of a vocoder left you speechless. The rich baritones caressed your skin like the molten honey that had plagued your mind for so many months, burning you in its wake. A second strike drew both another yelp and a response this time.

“No, Sir, you didn’t.”

Heat saturated your face at his actions, but you did your best to pull your knees further apart in an attempt to show you could cooperate. Your reward for the overcompensation was feeling his warm breath on your soft inner thigh. You bit your bottom lip in anticipation. He bit your tender skin, leaving dark marks in his aftermath. Each purpling spot was given thorough care to enrich the color so it would stay for as long as he deemed necessary. The contrast between his scoring teeth and soothing lips kept your body on edge. Each nip was followed by careful attention from his tongue and finished with a very slow kiss, as if sealing it with his approval.

With each mark made, he would draw his attention back again to your center, watching your reaction very closely, as if trying to drive your body mad with the combination of pain and pleasure. It was very clearly working, if the creamy substance your cunt was slowly leaking was any indication. His stillness inspired a suspense in every part of you that made your muscles hum. He reached the appropriate number of bites and moved onto his next objective, breaking you apart with his tongue.

Each lick of his warm appendage made your back arch off the cot, incurring the wrath of his bruising touch on your hips to keep you where he needed you, lucky he didn’t punish the movement and taking it in stride of compliment instead. And compliment it was as every motion his body made only brought your pleasure higher, breaking the atmosphere and burning you at every possible edge. Words you wouldn’t remember later left your mouth in begging expletives.

“Fuck, Mando. You hurt so _fucking_ good.”

His grip tightened at your praises, one hand sneaking back down to sink into your sinful heat. The invasion of the digits pressed into your pleasure like he could reach into your soul and pluck the climax from somewhere entirely intangible. Your muscles began a rhythmic constriction on his fingers and you felt as if you were about to fall off of the highest peak, when his other hand ripped itself away from holding you down and sharply slapped your clitoris, abruptly stopping all progress of your orgasm.

Your chest heaved as the denial sunk into your consciousness. A keening whine left your lungs, tears stinging your eyes behind the blindfold.

“You don’t cum unless I say you can cum. You gave up control of your body and that includes this pretty little cunt. Unless you’re going to say that word, _mesh’la_. I own every fucking ounce of pleasure I can wring from you and I’m not ready to let you cum yet; trust me when I tell you that you’ll feel so much better if you let me draw this out for you. Be patient, _needy girl_.”

You nod in acknowledgement, sensitive to each word he breathes onto your labia.

“Yes, Sir.”

His fingers never left your soft heat the entire time he let you unwind from the sudden stop, simply existing in your cunt, stationary and dominating in their constant presence, feeling every flutter of your muscles as he continued to enact the answers to your dirtiest prayers between your thighs.

“I’ve only just started. There’s so much I want to do to this tight little hole. Feeling you around my fingers won’t compare to how you’ll feel around my cock. And I haven’t even started with this one yet.”

His middle finger, covered in your wetness, crept down from your pussy and pressed steadily on your tight ring of muscles between your cheeks. The surprise had you tensing again, but you quickly adjusted to try to relax yourself and give as little resistance as possible. The action sent bolts of white-hot arousal through you as he breached you.

“What a good fucking girl you are, letting me in here.” He gradually pushed in further, allowing you the kindness to adjust to the new intrusion. “First, I’m going to fill up your cunt and then, as soon as I can, I’m going to cum back here too.” He began pulling out and pushing back into you as he continued. “Will you be able to take that for me? Will you be good? Let me use you like I need?”

Your hands fisted into the sheets hard enough to rip them as words of confirmation bled from your lips.

“I want to hear you. Tell me how good you’ll be.”

“I want to be the best goddamn cocksleeve for you that I can be. Wanna take that thick dick as deep as you can shove it, in whatever hole you want to put it, and earn the load wherever you put it. Fuck a brood into me if you want, anything.” Even if he knew about the implants on both of your hips, it didn’t stop the heavy twitch the sentiment sparked in his groin and some dark primal need in his body to seek out whatever drove his lust higher, like _rutting_ into your _fertile cunt_ until he leaked out of you from the tight union. “Take whatever you want from me, Mando. It’s yours and I’m happy to give it to you. I want you to feel good.”

His finger continued moving into and out of you at a slightly faster pace now.

“Is that what you think about when you touch yourself at night, me breeding this fucking cunt?”

The question jarred you from your pleasure only a little. _Shit._ You nodded your head and were rewarded with his mouth returning to your clit, drawing moans from you once more. The pleasure started to crescendo before he backed off again, gentler this time. You barely held back the whine as he removed himself completely, feeling a bonelessness start to set in.

After cleaning his hands on a rag, he took a moment to watch your body lull back to a sense of stasis on his bed, breasts still heaving from being so worked up. Your words circled around his mind, sending more sparks down to his half-hard cock. He lazily stroked himself as he issued his next command.

“On your knees for me now, pretty girl. Wait for me.”

You readily complied, resting your forearms on the bed and angling your hips in the most tantalizing manner you could, giving him access to wherever he wanted. Another bout of quiet filled the room and brought the familiar suspense back to your countenance. Mando was commonly quiet and now was no different. He took his time, time you gave to him in spades as you stayed perfectly still, letting him admire how the skin around your delicate holes started to swell from the rough use. How well could he build this up, condition you taking him so you could _just_ get through each new joining with the right amount of pain and pleasure to your body as he saw fit? He’d already left watercolor bruises along your thighs, spanning amaranthine to violet hues. Where else could he express his feelings beside from the paintings on your body? He realized the area that he wanted to focus on next.

The hand that came down on your cheek was another part of that primal need he could feel consuming his actions. He needed to see how much pain you could take to balance with the pleasure. Would it feel as good to you as it does to him? How far could he push your body until you couldn’t hold back from coming even while he flirted across the line of too much pain, bleeding hedonic pleasure from your body as a sacrifice to the complex desire electrocuting both of your higher brains? What would your face look like when you fell so deeply off that edge? He rubbed his large, calloused hand over the warming skin of your ass.

He dragged the darkened head of his once-again throbbing member through your folds, erratically jabbing your clit in a pattern that gave you just enough pleasure to shock your nerves, but not enough to cum on, just light up like a solar flare, avoiding full penetration just yet. While one hand continued to brand soreness into your hip, the other he pressed flat against the underside of his cock, pushing the long length of him against this wet seam of your body as he pulled his hips back and forth, _gliding_. The slippery friction between the two of you only heightened the sensitive thrills that each contour of skin sung as your bodies met. The hand from your hip shot up to your throat, arching your back against his torso, gripping you just right to hear your blood pounding in your head again.

“Look at how wet you are from me playing with you-r h-holes, sweet girl.” His breath hitched where the sinful singing between your hips pulsed feelings so overwhelming, his mind disconnected from properly controlling his own actions like he wanted to. He wanted to squirm with you in this haze of aphrodisiacal madness, pour out every bit of his fueling passion until both of you ignited; the slick that was covering his hand as he brought it up to your mouth to experience was only adding more arousal to your blissed out mind. Even though you had laved his skin clean, he kept his thumb hooked around your bottom jaw and angled his hips to press his stiff cock into your wet heat.

He had to press himself in harder than he meant to simply because of how tense your muscles had still stayed after his previous edging. The liquid honey you dripped helped him pass quickly, but the tension surfaced a new pain as his thickness made you spread around him forcefully. You felt your eyes roll right back into your head for the moment of overwhelming sensations.

“ _Mesh’la_ , how greedy this little cunt is, taking me like this, pulling me inside. You’re so tight around me it hurts me too.” His hand alternated degrees of pressure while he kept talking, controlling your breathing. “H-hurts so sweetly. But feel how deep I am, how I fill you up so snugly.” He flexed his entire member inside you, making you lose focus on getting proper oxygen to your head as he pulled so deliciously at your straining walls.

Your body contracted against him as he alternated between this throbbing motion and spanking your one cheek until it blushed darkening crimson. Each action worked to slowly get your pussy to adjust to his member enough to let him move. The constant back and forth of tensing and relaxing your muscles weakened your legs as you tried to stay upright for him, determination whispering future satisfaction to your misfiring brain. Your eyes started to cloud up in a mile-long stare behind the blindfold that Mando could somehow sense because he started planting barely tangible kisses along your shoulders, grunting voice tickling at the edges of your hazed mind.

“Don’t float so far away from me, little star. Come back to me. Tell me where your mind is wandering. I want to float with you.” The tender nuzzling that was his face seeking the fit of your neck to him brought tears to the corner of your eyes and made you clear your throat before you spoke. If he noticed, he didn’t comment on the emotional rawness that you couldn’t hide from him, instead pulling you closer to his existence by suckling another mark onto your skin.

“I’m thinking about how big the load you fuck into me is going to be, how deep you can shove it so my cunt is full of you. So it leaks out of me for days, bruised sore enough to feel you every time I move.”

His grip on your throat tightened up harder than before.

“You like having your body used? Getting wet every time you feel the ghost of my touch, little one? Always aching to be filled.”

He started pushing and pulling out of your channel as you nodded to him, enjoying every unique ridge of your pussy as he raked over your walls. He jammed himself as deep as he could at this angle and fed off each punch of breath getting fucked from your lungs. The need to try to blur every line between the two of you increased; he didn’t want to distinguish where you began and he ended. His mind wanted to stay in this fuzzy, warm gray area of existence for as long as possible. Maybe you were both a little greedy, so close to finding that bright, hidden spot just out of reach from each other.

His mind wandered back to you being full of his load.

“Want to be used so badly that you’d let me fuck a baby into this womb, wouldn’t you?”

The words pressed harder at that hidden spot inside you, drunk on the heady mixture of his depravity and being able to respond so fluidly to the flow of his sexual thoughts.

“Yes, Mando. Feel so good, I’d let you do anything you want to my body. Want you to fuck me all throughout the day so we can make sure it takes. Spend days sunk in my womb, painting the fucking walls.”

Heated praises escaped his mouth as he ran a hand over your lower stomach, letting his appendage span the entire breadth of you, so small compared to him, but surrounded by the bruises his hands had left encircling your hips. Seeing them sent another increase to the mounting pleasure in his groin.

“You’re going to look so beautiful stuffed full of my cum. Should build you a breeding bench, needy girl. Let me bend you over it, fucking you raw. Tie you down to it.” He pressed your shoulders roughly down into the bed and forced an uncomfortable arc to your spine, fucking into you harshly. Keeping your hips up to meet his strained muscles in your back that you knew would ache later. “Just leave you perfectly accessible for me to fuck you, fill you, breed this cunt.”

He abruptly pulled himself out entirely and slapped the span of your whole pussy with full contact of his hand. The keening yelp left you as he shoved roughly back inside just as quickly, snapping his hips. He stuck his thumb next to your face, pressed into the sheets, encouraging you to suck on it. He brought it back to the space between your cheeks again and gradually pressed it in.

“You want me to fill up this cunt?”

Tears escaped the edges of your blindfold as the cresting wave of your orgasm built up around you. The pain spread between your thighs, astride your hips, from all the way at your cervix with the pressure he was ploughing into you at, bending himself forward to snake his free hand to your clit. Being caged under the dominating body of the Mandalorian shoved your mind and body right at the closest edge to your shock of pleasure.

“I feel you tightening up again, little star. I need you to let go, let me flood this fertile little cunt full of my seed, use your body to birth me fucking _warriors_. Come on. You can do it. So fucking good for me, my sweet, needy little, fuck-.”

There were no proper words for how hard your orgasm tore through you. If asked, you might liken it to plummeting through ten layers of conscious to subconscious pleasures all at once. A full body shudder rippled through your muscles and radiated inward, causing you to shove yourself back onto the fat cock spearing deep into you as the Mandalorian felt himself hurled off the cliff with you. He kept himself pressed achingly tight to your body, trying to force every drop of himself further into you, smashing your hips down. He barely realized how hard he pressed you to the mattress, just gyrating his hips as much into you as he could without pulling outward, carnal pleasure dictating he stay right where he was to pull every second of enjoyment from this moment.

Intense aftershocks spasm your limbs as you found a way to breathe beneath the hulking man above you. His overall presence and closeness caressed the raw vulnerability slipping through your post-orgasmic haze. In an attempt to soothe both yourself and him, your touch rubbed gently across the parts of his body you could reach. He was still panting alongside you and showing no sign of moving much more yet.

He gently pulled your hair over your shoulder, hands once again clean, so he could kiss his way from your ear to the corner of your mouth.

“Still with me, little star?”

A small murmur of confirmation passed your filter.

“Am I hurting you or can I stay here a moment longer?”

“Stay.”

A dark chuckle got caught somewhere between your ear and chest. “That doesn’t answer the hurting part of the question.”

A smirk took over your mouth.

“A girl can’t be good _all_ the time, Mando.”

He smiled into your skin and took a playful nip at a particularly sensitive spot. It was perfectly representative of his personality, in your opinion, that the Mandalorian would use his plush lips to inflict such painful sparks, and suckle such gorgeous beauty marks into the canvas of your body.

“Then don’t be surprised when you get punished for it. I notice everything when I’m so deep inside you, brat.”

The admission had you clenching around his half-soft cock. You didn’t get a chance to enjoy it for much longer as strong arms helped maneuver you around to your back without pulling out yet. His token silence filled the space as he did leave your soft heat, hand drifting down to watch the cream slowly flowing from your cunt.

“I’d like to tell you, little star, I could get used to seeing this sight more often. You better think through that offer carefully, of letting me have control of this body, because I’m finding every dirty thought I have of you pushing me to not let you leave.”

He kissed you softly, pouring a tenderness into the action you hadn’t experienced in such a long time.

“In the meantime, will you let me clean you up?”

You started to tell him it could wait when you realized he had moved back down your body to press his mouth between your legs.

“Mando.”

The overstimulation from his tongue licking through your folds was enough to pull an uncomfortable squeal in confirmation to him.

He used his fingers to press some of the leaking liquid back into your cunt, mind still flirting with the idea of impregnating your _fertile fucking womb_ on some level.

“Call me Din. When I fill up this last hole later, I want to hear you say it. Want you to tell me who stuffed you so full of cream that you go cockdumb, just taking me, maybe taking me back and forth between both holes. Admit who these holes belong to.”

He licked the skin of your puckered muscle and you felt your eyes search the back of your brain for any idea of what was really going on or how lucky you’d gotten to be spread open before this dominating force of nature.

“Yes, Sir.”

After the activities between the two of you had largely settled, you laid pressed along Din’s body in his bunk, sharing a blanket. The cool air was mitigated by the overwhelming forge of heat from the Mandalorian’s being kindling your own limbs to flame. As the protective heat relaxed your muscles and your brain unwound from itself, you would later recall already knowing exactly where you wanted to be for the foreseeable future. Answering Din’s question was a path clearer than expected for something so burningly passionate. You simply needed him, like air to breathe.

**Author's Note:**

> There you have it! Before I forget, ge’tal means red in Mando’a, so says the internet. I think y’all know the rest of the common fun words.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed. I’m hoping to eventually write a companion perspective of Mando’s side (and perhaps the butt stuff). We’ll see though as I am horrendously unreliable in both muse and time availability. Hence why I really only do one-shots anymore. If you’re comfortable, please feel free to leave filth suggestions in the comments or my inbox (I take 90 business days to reply tbf). I’ll take anything into advisement or muse if I can for doing something in Mando’s perspective for the follow up.
> 
> Posting this with only minor re-reading for errors. Sober editing to come at a later date. I needed this filth off my chest. Let me know if you think of useful tags to add. I just make messes honestly. <3


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